


All those times that you didn't leave

by yourbuttervoicedbeau (kiwiana)



Series: Songs from the Jukebox [Prompt Fills] [28]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Jukebox Prompt, M/M, POV Patrick Brewer, Prompt Fill, Therapy, and you can assume the happy ending follows, marital discord
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:55:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25777771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau
Summary: Patrick can’t remember the last time they touched. He needs it to not be the last time.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Songs from the Jukebox [Prompt Fills] [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775569
Comments: 22
Kudos: 161





	All those times that you didn't leave

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this around a month ago for the prompt "the conversation they have in which they decide/talk about going to marriage counselling" but I didn't post it then because I'd written a bunch (for me) of angst recently. But I did actually really like it, so I'm publishing it now. So, you know... sorry. They'll be okay.
> 
> As always with Jukebox prompts it’s unedited, barely reread, and written on my phone, so apologies for what I’m sure is a multitude of errors.
> 
> Title is from Taylor Swift.

“I can't do this anymore.”

Patrick has heard those words before. Flung up into the air after a difficult customer, hands flailing as he marches into the back; during a phone call with his family, when he reaches his breaking point with his mom or Alexis’ histrionics; on two memorable occasions, in bed. More recently it’s been shouted during fights before one or both of them storm off to calm down, returning with softer words if not apologies.

Never like this; never whispered in the dark from across the insurmountable four-inch gap between their bodies. Patrick’s always thought it was a figure of speech, but he’s sure his heart actually skips a beat, terror clawing at his chest. He can’t— they can’t—

“What does that mean?” he croaks, and holds his breath waiting for the response.

Patrick can’t remember the last time they touched. He needs it to not be the last time.

There’s a deep sigh from next to him. “It means, I can’t do this anymore. We can’t carry on like this. We need to— to talk to someone about this, or else—” he breaks off, apparently as unwilling to verbalise the end of that sentence as Patrick is to think about it.

It’s not the first time David’s broached therapy. _They could help us,_ David had said. _I know you think you’re above talking about your problems, but it could really help us._ Patrick had snapped back, _Like all the expensive therapy you had in New York helped you?_ and David had snarled, _Maybe if you were willing to talk about things you wouldn’t have kept me a secret from your parents for two years,_ because they’ve been married for long enough now that they know exactly where each other’s weak spots are, know precisely how to press them to make them really hurt.

That one had been particularly bad. David had slept in the guest room for two days before returning to their bed, both murmuring apologies that didn’t actually resolve anything.

Patrick hates the idea of counselling. Hates it. Talking about his problems, tackling them head on, is just not in his nature. But in the end, if it’s a choice between having David and the other thing, the unthinkable other thing, he’ll choose David every time.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “I’ll make an appointment in the morning.”

He inches his hand across the invisible barricade until it brushes up against skin. David laces their fingers together and squeezes tight.

“Thank you,” David whispers.

Not so insurmountable after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Come and find me on [Tumblr](http://yourbuttervoicedbeau.tumblr.com).


End file.
